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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932065">What It Means</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth'>DameRuth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Better With Two [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:29:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A followup piece to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24915211">"Security,"</a> though it only makes an oblique reference to that story, and could stand easily on its own. Nine and Rose have a relationship-defining moment after a typical run-for-your-life day.</p><p>[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.05.11.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Better With Two [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Unarmored</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I lifted the phrase "leather armour" (or "armor", since I'm an American) from RudeAndNotGinger -- hope that was OK -- since it's so wonderfully evocative. :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nothing like a sheer drop-off for bringing a headlong run to a screeching halt.<br/>
<br/>
Rose barely managed to keep herself from falling over the edge as it was, windmilling her arms for balance.  The mist they'd been running through had hidden what was ahead till the last minute.<br/>
<br/>
A strong, familiar hand clamped onto her shoulder and pulled her helpfully back a few steps.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Now</i> what?" she asked the Doctor, her voice breathier and higher than usual.  She glanced back, and saw a faint glow in the evening mist behind them.  Torches.  Gaining on them.  No pitchforks back there, but plenty of other farming implements, oh, yeah . . .<br/>
<br/>
He was looking back, too.  He cleared his throat and stepped forward, craning his neck to look over the edge of the drop.  Within eight feet or so, everything faded off into mist, though there was the faint sound of lapping water.  Hard to guess a distance, though, since the mist muffled everything.<br/>
<br/>
"Right.  If I remember correctly, the cliff's low here -- we should be able to jump, then swim to shore, skirt the lake, an' come back to the TARDIS . . ." he said.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>If</i> you remember?  <i>Jump?</i>" Rose hissed, trying to keep her voice down.<br/>
<br/>
"Y'like our chances if we don't?" he asked, hooking a meaningful thumb in the direction of their pursuers.  Rose could hear them now, faintly, gaining ground.<br/>
<br/>
He held out his hand.  <i>Do you trust me?</i> the gesture asked.<br/>
<br/>
Rose groaned, and took his hand.  "Butch an' Sundance, that's us," she said . . . and out of nowhere,  felt the beginnings of a smile.<br/>
<br/>
He gave her his patented crazy-as-a-loon grin in response, then turned and gathered himself to jump.  Rose did the same.<br/>
<br/>
"I get to be Butch," she told him, just as their feet left the ground.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
The water, when they hit, was icy cold.  Even though Rose had steeled herself, she almost gasped out her breath and pulled in a lungful of water -- almost.  Even before she could recover, she felt the strong pull of the Doctor, towing her along by the hand.  Within a few strokes, her feet touched bottom, and she forced her unhappy muscles to keep working, rather than seizing up like they wanted to.<br/>
<br/>
There was a thin line of shore at the base of the cliff, and they hauled themselves out of the water, trying to make as little noise as possible.  Rose's clothes were heavy and clinging, and the chill of the air had her shivering uncontrollably, but she clamped her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering and followed the Doctor, their feet crunching faintly on the gravelled beach.  He kept hold of her hand with a reassuring pressure, guiding her through the mist as if he knew exactly where they were going.<br/>
<br/>
Rose had her doubts, but followed along.  It wasn't like she had any better idea of where to go.  She heard when their pursuers reached the cliff, voices echoing in anger, confusion, and argument through the eerie mist -- but the noise faded as she and the Doctor jog-trotted away.<br/>
<br/>
Just when she thought for sure she'd freeze into a solid, Rose-shaped block of ice, the Doctor stopped.  He pulled her closer, and gestured up the cliff.  Rose eyed it.  From what she could see, there were plenty of hand- and foot-holds -- and it wasn't like there was a choice.  She nodded, he grinned approval at her, and they began to climb.<br/>
<br/>
It was almost nightmarish, but Rose kept going.  She would have thought the exertion would warm her, but she just felt colder and colder . . .<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, there was a hand in front of her nose.  Startled, she stopped climbing and looked up.  She was almost to the top, and the Doctor was bent over the edge, reaching down to her.  She took his hand gratefully, and half-climbed and was half-pulled the rest of the way up.<br/>
<br/>
Another hundred yards or so, and there -- more welcome than any sight she could ever remember -- was the tall oblong bulk of the TARDIS, faint light glowing from the sign above the doors.<br/>
<br/>
The Doctor had his key already out, and unlocked the door, pulling Rose in.<br/>
<br/>
Warmth and the familiar sandalwood-and-ozone scent of the control room hit Rose like a wave, and she broke into a relieved, grateful laugh -- the first actual, voluntary noise she'd allowed herself since that plunge into the water.<br/>
<br/>
The Doctor closed the door behind them, cementing their safety . . . and then pulled Rose into one of his all-engulfing bear hugs.  Wet clothes and wet leather chafed in the process, but Rose didn't mind in the slightest.<br/>
<br/>
"S' not fair," he said into her wet hair, "<i>I</i> wanted to be Butch!"<br/>
<br/>
They both laughed, then, holding each other tightly, celebrating another adventure they'd made it through together.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
The second he realized how chilled she was, the Doctor practically dragged her to the bathroom and shoved her in the direction of the shower, with firm instructions to not come out again till she'd warmed up.  She hadn't been in any mood to argue.  She'd felt like a drowned rat, and knew she looked it, too.  Ironically, the Doctor soaked to the skin looked pretty much the same as he always did, though he squished a little as he walked.<br/>
<br/>
The hot water of the shower was heavenly, and she didn't even mind the pins and needles in her hands and feet as the feeling came back to them.  She lathered herself all over with the TARDIS's rose-scented soap twice, shampooed and conditioned her hair, and then spent a few more minutes just standing there in the spray, luxuriating.<br/>
<br/>
If there was one thing her travels with the Doctor had taught her to apprecitate to the fullest, it was indoor plumbing and an unlimited supply of hot water.<br/>
<br/>
Once she could move her fingers freely again, she stepped out and scrubbed herself dry on the fluffy white towels the TARDIS had thoughtfully provided (she thought there were rather more of them on the shelf when she stepped out of the shower then there had been when she first went in).  Leaving her soaked clothes on the tiled floor for later, she wrapped her hair in one towel and the rest of herself in another, and headed for her room.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
With her hair toweled dry and wearing fresh, dry clothing, Rose felt largely human again, and went in search of the Doctor.  She'd felt the change in the TARDIS's background hum, and knew they'd taken off -- probably they were floating in the Vortex now.<br/>
<br/>
He was in the control room, as she'd guessed, and he'd changed into dry clothing, too -- he had the green jumper on now, instead of the blue, and a fresh pair of black jeans.  He was barefoot (his shoes were presumably drying somewhere), and he had his beloved leather coat laid out on the mesh decking of the control room.  He was bent down, fussing with it, arranging it just <i>so</i>, to ensure it'd keep its shape when it dried.<br/>
<br/>
Rose grinned, and walked up to look over his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"So, is the patient gonna make it?" she asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't lost a coat yet," he told her seriously, without missing a beat.  He settled a lapel into place, then stood and streched tall, arms above his head.<br/>
<br/>
Rose couldn't help being struck by how . . . different he looked without that coat -- his "leather armor," as she thought of it to herself.  In just the jumper and jeans, she could appreciate his lean, rangy build, the unexpected breadth of his shoulders, and the tight, spare musculature of his arms . . .<br/>
<br/>
Startled, she realized she'd been checking out -- genuinely ogling in fact -- the Doctor.  She shook her head a little to clear it.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, the Doctor hadn't noticed.  He was standing now with his hands on his hips, eyeing the coat critically.<br/>
<br/>
Partly to distract herself, Rose commented, "I guess that's another place we can cross off our 'return visit' list, yeah?"  She wandered to the jump seat and dropped into it.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I dunno," the Doctor said, still looking down at this coat.  He glanced over at Rose, his expression amused.  "I think in the long run they'll be a lot happier now that crashed Arconlian ship's computer isn't pretendin' to be a god and tellin' everyone what to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but they were sure put out when you unplugged it," Rose said, and couldn't help grinning at the memory.  "That High Priestess yellin' and screamin' and callin' you 'Godslayer.'"<br/>
<br/>
"Catchy, that," the Doctor agreed, and ambled over to plop down next to her.  "Been called worse," he said reflectively, and gave Rose a strange, complex grin -- humor and pain and memory, all mixed together.<br/>
<br/>
That grin hit Rose with unexpected force.  It was so . . . Doctorish, so much of what he was, all in one expression.<br/>
<br/>
"Notice I didn't get any names like that," she snifffed, managing to carry on the banter even over the odd feeling that was starting in the pit of her stomach.  "Chopped liver, that's me."<br/>
<br/>
The Doctor laughed.  "Never!" he told her.  "Maybe . . . Priestess to the Godslayer?  Companion to the Godslayer?  The Godslayer's Secretary?  Helpmeet? -- there's a good old fashioned word.  The Godslayer's au pair girl?  The Godslayer's Plus One?"<br/>
<br/>
Rose was laughing now -- they both were.  It was at least partly reaction to the adrenaline rush, she knew, but it still felt very . . . cozy.<br/>
<br/>
"I know!"  She gasped.  "You can be the Doctor, and I can be the Nurse . . ." He started laughing in earnest at that, and Rose fell sideways against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder, as all the air went out of her.<br/>
<br/>
She sucked in her breath, and caught a blast of his scent -- clean and familiar and so very, very close to human.  It seemed to go right through her conscious mind and straight to her lizard brain.  All of a sudden, she wasn't laughing anymore, though she was still smiling.<br/>
<br/>
Rose straightened up, and looked right into the Doctor's eyes.  He was sitting so close to her . . . he still had a little bit of a smile on his face, but it drained away as he stared at her.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, she was reminded of the time they had been sitting together in the jump seat, after the Dalek, just like this, and out of nowhere she'd wanted to kiss him.<br/>
<br/>
She wanted that again, right now, only the impulse was a hundred times stronger.  It was downright overwhelming, in fact -- that desire to reach out, to touch him . . . And she was looking right into his eyes, saw the pupils of his eyes widen in a heartbeat, saw the flare of his nostrils as he drew in a breath, and knew he wanted it, too.<br/>
<br/>
It should have felt strange -- him being the Doctor and all -- but in that moment it felt completely, absolutely, inarguably <i>right</i>.  She could feel her smile widening.  Oh, she knew exactly where things stood now, where this was going, and what to do. A warm, rising tide of physical desire began to well up in her stomach, cresting into a great, roaring tidal wave  She started to lean towards him . . .<br/>
<br/>
And all of a sudden, he wasn' t there anymore.  He'd jumped and spun, and now he was on his feet a good three feet away from her, with a wide-eyed, completely terrified expression on his face.<br/>
<br/>
The growing wave of affection and desire that had carried Rose along collapsed with an almost audible <i>splat</i>, and left her gaping up at the Doctor without a single coherent thought in her head.<br/>
<br/>
"Tea!" he burst out, his voice half an octave higher than it usually was.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What?!?</i>" Rose practically shouted at him.  She wasn't hurt, or angry -- she was far too confused for that.  How they'd gotten from being a hairsbreadth away from snogging each other senseless to talking about tea was completely and utterly beyond her.<br/>
<br/>
He gave her a rather psychotic version of his usual grin.  "I could really use a cup of tea right about now!  I think I'll go and make one!  D'you want one, too?"<br/>
<br/>
Rose gaped at him.  A thousand possible responses swirled through her head, ranging from screaming to bursting into tears to launching a flying tackle and by-God pulling him to the ground with her mouth fastened over his . . . but she looked up at him and saw, behind the weird grin he was wearing, the absolute desperation in his face.  His eyes were postively pleading with her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, please, Rose, please . . .!</i> he was begging her.<br/>
<br/>
Rose closed her mouth, took a deep breath, and managed to squeak out, "Yes, please."  Then, in a stronger voice, closer to her usual, she added, "And don't forget the milk."<br/>
<br/>
"Milk!  Right!  Back in a tic!"  And the Doctor was gone, leaving Rose alone with her whirling, fractured thoughts.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Understood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rose thinks it through . . . frustration's annoying, but there are worse -- and better -- things in life.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rose desperately tried to organize her thoughts.  She had as long as it took to make a cup of tea to figure out what she was going to do next, and it seemed like an impossible task.<br/>
<br/>
What the hell had just <i>happened</i>?  What did it mean?  She sure thought she'd known what was going on -- forget the Doctor's whole <i>I'm an alien, I'm all superior</i> routine, he was a bloke, and they'd fancied each other, and they'd been going to do something about it . . . and he'd <i>stopped</i>.<br/>
<br/>
In Rose's experience, that simply didn't happen.<br/>
<br/>
He hadn't been angry, at least . . . but he'd been scared.<br/>
<br/>
How did <i>that</i> work?  He was the Doctor -- she'd seen him stand up to things that'd scare most people to jelly.<br/>
<br/>
He sure wasn't scared of, well, girls.  She might not be the most experienced person in the world, but she could recognize the symptoms of physical attraction well enough.  Eye pupils weren't prone to lying -- not in humans, anyway, and she was betting it was the same for Time Lords.  If he could have lied to her that way, he'd have been going the opposite direction, if anything.<br/>
<br/>
Was it the age difference?  She had to admit, that was a big one -- even without the whole nine hundred years thing, at face value he could easily be twice her age . . . but, then again, when they were with each other, all that time just didn't seem to matter.  He could look like a man in his forties, and he could talk about having tea with Napoleon six hundred years ago, his time, and she'd believe it (mostly) -- but it didn't make any difference when they laughed, or ran for their lives, or anything else.  She didn't think it'd make a difference if they were doing . . . <i>that</i>, either.<br/>
<br/>
Some kind of physical compatibility issue?  That brought her up short for a moment . . . but only a moment.  Yeah, for all she knew, wherever his clothes started he was all fur, or tentacles, or God-only-knew what -- but she didn't think so.  She'd seen <i>alien</i> aliens, and the Doctor sounded like a human, moved like a human, ate like a human, used the same facilities as a human (which she knew from sharing a bathroom with him -- he was also hopeless at putting a new roll on, another very human trait, when you got down to it), <i>smelled</i> like a human, and every centimeter of him she'd seen had looked one hundred percent human.  She was betting any differences there would be minor, if anything.<br/>
<br/>
Also, if they were that incompatible, he probably wouldn't have done the eye-pupil thing at her.  So scratch <i>that</i> one off the list.<br/>
<br/>
Was he afraid of ruining their friendship?  That was a pretty common thing she'd heard tossed around as a reason -- though mostly coming from women in regards to blokes rather than the other way 'round.  Well, maybe so -- she'd never had a friend like the Doctor, not even Mickey, though she'd known the Doctor for just a fraction of the time she and Mickey had been mates.  It was a sure thing he cared about her, she had memories enough that proved <i>that</i> . . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . "I could save the world, but lose you."  They were in the middle of world-shaking upheaval and disaster, but he could still look at her with those intense blue eyes and balance her -- Rose Tyler, shopgirl and nobody -- against the fate of the Earth  . . . and the scales would come up almost even in his mind . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . Going shopping in an alien marketplace, and they'd split up because she wanted to look for snacks and baubles, and he wanted to look for TARDIS parts.  When the agreed-on length of time was up, she wove her way through the crowd, heading towards the parked TARDIS, and found the Doctor there ahead of her.  He leaned against the familiar blue box where it stood parked against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set and forbidding, his eyebrows a straight, glowering line.  People -- humans and aliens both -- were giving him a wide, nervous berth, nobody wanting to break into that grim wall of reserve he radiated.  Then he caught sight of Rose, and his head went up.  He straightened, unfolding his arms, and grinned, all the grimness burnt out of him in an instant by the way his face lit up in greeting . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . A bloke in a bar -- never mind that it was a space station and the bloke was broccoli-green, it was a familiar situation.  She was fending him off just fine, even though he was being persistant -- until he suddenly went as pale as celery.  Rose could sense the Doctor at her shoulder, a dark looming presence that felt at <i>least</i> ten feet tall.  (It was a great trick -- she wondered if he could teach it to her.)  "Is this gentleman botherin' you, Rose?" he asked, steel in his voice.  "Not <i>much</i>" she told him, with wry amusement, and the green bloke turned and bolted while Rose grinned at his retreating back . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . Him scooping her up in his arms, carrying her off to her room, and tucking her into bed, making her feel so impossibly, completely safe in the process . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . "I only travel with the best," the words a low, angry snarl, and her standing next to him, inside the charmed circle of his regard, all the tests long since passed, included in that special category without question . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . Watching a Grand Procession of royalty on some distant planet, an incredible sight with floats and elephants and musicians and ribbons and confetti, and a whole cadre of dancing ladies-in-waiting, each one more beautiful than the last in their elaborate bejeweled gowns.  Rose, standing on the sidelines with the Doctor, watching the spectacle and sharing candied almonds from a street vendor's striped paper bag, glanced down at her jeans and trainers and hoodie and felt small and ragged and common.  She looked back at the dancers and sighed.  The Doctor, with his sharp ears, heard her even over the hoopla.  "What?" he asked.  "They're so beautiful . . ." she answered, wistfully.  "What, them?" he laughed, popping an almond in his mouth, and gazing at the parade.  "You're worth six of them, any day," he said absently, chewing, followed immediately by, "Oh, look!  Here come the dragons.  I <i>love</i> the dragons . . ." . . . He pointed, but she was watching his face -- completely oblivious to her in his enthusiasm for dragons, but also completely free of any irony whatsoever . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . Him holding her hand, through the jump and the water and the cold, hugging her and laughing when it was all over . . .<br/>
<br/>
. . . Him, in a thousand different times and places and moods -- brave and silly, angry and happy, dangerous and affectionate, all the contrasts he was capable of . . . and in every image, he was her friend, and the person she trusted most in the whole world.<br/>
<br/>
The person she loved most, she realized.  <i>And he loves me.</i><br/>
<br/>
That was why this was hitting her so hard.  She wanted to touch <i>him</i>, out of all the people in time and space; hold him close, skin to skin; kiss his lips; share her body with him; watch his face when he came, give him that ultimate physical pleasure and surrender . . .<br/>
<br/>
The desire hit her hard enough she actually curled up on the jump seat, hugging her knees.  It had never been like <i>this</i> with Mickey, or Jimmy . . . but she thought she could recognize it for what it was, now.<br/>
<br/>
Instinct.  That's what it was.  The human need to find a mate, to reproduce -- and God, it was overwhelming.<br/>
<br/>
It was also ironic -- him not even human, them probably not even able to have children (not that she wanted them, consciously), but here she was, completely fallen for him and pinning her instinctive human reactions on him.<br/>
<br/>
She really was a primitive ape, wasn't she?  She growled in frustration at herself.  He was right on target with that, he was . . .<br/>
<br/>
<i>Unfair,</i> a little voice in the back of her head piped up.  <i>He's attracted too, on some level -- he's no less primitive than you, there . . . </i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah,</i> she thought back, <i>but he doesn't want it, and he's fighting it . . . </i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Why?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>I don't know, he just </i>is, <i>and that makes it . . . important.</i><br/>
<br/>
That thought stopped her cold.<br/>
<br/>
Did it <i>matter</i> why he didn't want it?  Or was it more important that he simply didn't?<br/>
<br/>
What was that line from one of her favorite movies, <i>The Princess Bride</i> -- "As you wish," that really meant "I love you"?<br/>
<br/>
She'd never understood that before, she realized, never <i>really</i> understood it.<br/>
<br/>
Rose knew, with sudden crystal clarity, that she might -- if she tried, if she pushed it -- be able to drive the Doctor over the brink, seduce him against his will.  She didn't know how she knew it, but she understood that she had a unique leverage with him that she could apply, if she chose -- she'd done it before, when convincing him to take her to see her father, and she could do it here, in this matter . . .<br/>
<br/>
But the thought was utterly revolting.  She didn't want to <i>make</i> him do anything.  She wanted him to want it, himself; if he didn't, it would be pure selfishness, and it would be worse in the end than Reapers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If he can be strong enough to resist,</i> she thought, <i> for whatever reason he has, I can love him enough to be equally strong, right?</i><br/>
<br/>
Now, if he ever changed his mind, if the terms ever altered, that would be something else again -- and she could hope fervently for that to happen -- but for now . . .<br/>
<br/>
She took a deep breath, uncurled . . . and realized it was taking a bloody long time for him to get that tea together.  That was worrying.  She dithered a moment, wondering if she should go and find him, or if that would make things worse.<br/>
<br/>
She'd actually started to stand when something, some faint sound or some mental nudge from the TARDIS, told her he was coming back.  She dropped back in the seat, and remembering the book she'd wedged between the cushions earlier, she went scrabbling for it, frantically.<br/>
<br/>
By the time the Doctor actually arrived, she had the book open (right-side up, which it hadn't been at first), and was doing a fairly convincing casual sprawl, pretending to read.  His footstep struck the grating, and she looked up to find a very anxous Doctor balancing two teacups.<br/>
<br/>
She gave him the most genuine smile she could muster, and held out her hand.  He passed a cup to her, accidentally-on-pupose brushing her fingers with his.  Innnnteresting . . .<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," she responded, neither flinching from nor moving towards his touch.  Just a girl relaxing with a book accpeting a cup of tea from her best mate.  She took a sip -- the milk and sugar were exactly the way she liked them.<br/>
<br/>
He was still watching her.  She smiled.  "It's perfect, thank you," she said, with real warmth.<br/>
<br/>
Moving carefully, he set his teacup on a flat spot on the console, and began to fiddle with things.  "Mmph," he said, after a minute.<br/>
<br/>
Rose looked up from the pages she wasn't reading.  "Mmm?" she responded.<br/>
<br/>
"Loose connection, there.  That's why we've been gettin' that little vibration when we leave the Vortex."<br/>
<br/>
Rose couldn't help but wonder what little vibration he was talking about -- it always felt like a whopping <i>huge</i> vibration to her, like someone had dropped the TARDIS fifty feet onto concrete.  But . . . he was trying to make small talk.<br/>
<br/>
"Something you can fix?" she asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Should be.  Don't think I'll need new parts . . ."<br/>
<br/>
He ducked underneath the console and opened a panel.  Soon enough, he was buried arm-deep in the wiring there, stopping only once to get his toolbox. All very familiar -- homey, even.<br/>
<br/>
Rose still wasn't having much luck reading.  Her earlier resolve had been a lot easier to keep in mind when he wasn't sitting there, right in front of her, bent forward and showing off the musculature of his back beneath his tightly-stretched jumper.  His neck looked unbelievably vulnerable and appealing, the downy-soft skin just begging to be stroked. . .<br/>
<br/>
She balled up her free hand, the one not holding her book, and shifted so she was sitting on it.  <i>I can do this,</i> she thought, gritting her teeth, <i>but aaaaaarrrgh, it's hard!</i><br/>
<br/>
The Doctor spoke, cutting across her thoughts and startling her.  "So, what are you readin'?" he asked, sounding perfectly normal.<br/>
<br/>
"Reading?" Rose asked.  "Oh!  Er, <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"  The Doctor sounded unflatteringly surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, really," Rose told him, her dryness completely unfeigned.  "Sometimes I need a break from comic books, y'know."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, didn't mean it like that," he said, without looking up.  He sounded contrite, but not overly so.  A pause.  "That's one of my favorites -- been a long time since I read it, though.  Would y' mind readin' aloud, so I can follow along?  I'd like that, while I work."<br/>
<br/>
Rose was surprised, but pleased.  He wouldn't ask that if he didn't mean it -- if he didn't want her company.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," she told him, picking a starting place at random.  <i>Now, so long as he doesn't stand up and bend over in front of me, I think I can get through the evening.  But if he gives me half a reason in the future to think I can get away with flirting, all bets are off . . .</i><br/>
<br/>
And hopefully, one of these days, "As you wish," will take on a whole new meaning . . .<br/>
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